We're really sorry about being so late with this one. :S Hopefully now that exams are over we can be publishing more.

Chapter Five: I'm Happy Just to Dance With You

The club we ended up at was a pretty good looking place called "Top-Ten". Apparently the Beatles were known customers there, so they were expecting a crowd. As we exited the van, I thanked Mal for the ride. I felt a rush of relief that I had chosen to wear one of my better dresses - a dark emerald green thing that reached almost to my knees with ruffles going through it giving it a sophisticated yet bouncy and playful feel. Perfect for dancing.
Once we got in, John was whisked away at once, hidden by a crowd of five or more girls all grabbing his arms and leading him away. Ringo made his way to the dance floor, and George hung around by the bar, smoking and looking deep in thought.
Paul on the other hand, graciously remembered me and stayed with me.
"What do you think luv?" he asked as we took a seat on the right side of the bar.
"Not bad," I mused, nodding my head to the music that was playing.
"C'mon. Not bad? This is one of the best in Liverpool." He gave me a lopsided grin and ordered a brandy. "One for me too please," I added. Paul cocked an eyebrow. "What?" I asked defensively.
"Oh nothing, it's just that our Abs is growing up so fast." He pretended to wipe away a fake tear from his eye, and sniffed.

I shoved his arm lightly. "Oh stop it. I'm just a year younger than you, and you started drinking when?"

He raised his hands in defeat. "Okay okay, you win." He nodded a thanks to the bartender as he slid our drinks across the counter to us. I started to reach for my purse when Paul stopped me and tossed a wad of cash at him. "It's on me tonight."

"Oh come on Paul-"

He shook his head, which actually made me a bit relieved. I didn't have all that much cash to be spending freely. "We brought you 'ere, we pay." He shifted in his seat and sipped at his drink. "So tell me; what do you do for your job exactly?"

I paused to think before responding. "Well... I edit all the articles for the local paper, and deal with letters to the newspaper. You know, like, letters to the editor."

He nodded. "I could never do that. It would be too much sitting still. Plus, I'm not the best at grammar and such."

"It's not that hard actually. The people who write them in the first place are really good at it so usually there's not much I have to correct."

We went on talking about things that would be boring to talk about with anyone but Paul. He was the best person to talk to; he listened, wanted to know more, and seemed to really care about what I was saying. I got so caught up in all the talk that before I knew it my brandy was totally gone and the song in the background had changed to a more familiar song.

"Nice music selection," I mused, watching Paul's reaction.

He laughed. "I think they knew we were coming." He tipped his ear to hear himself sing 'I Saw Her Standing There'.

"This is my favorite I think, so far," I commented.

"It is, is it?" He eyed me and then asked, "So do you still dance as well as you did two years ago?"

"Better." I grinned and took his hand as he led me to the floor.

Ever since I got involved with the Beatles, I'd been dancing - but no one had been as fun to dance with as Paul. It was so much fun, particularly because every time I forgot myself and started to lose my smile, his crazy flop of hair and wriggling eyebrows planted it straight back on. It seemed as thought we'd just started when the song ended.

"So," I said, breathing heavily. "How-"

A raven-haired girl appeared suddenly from behind Paul and took his arm. "Paulie! Mind if I have a dance?" she purred. I frowned, about to say something when Paul gave me a look.

"Sorry Abby, I'll catch up with you later." He gave me an apologizing smile and then was swept away.
I glowered after them, feeling utterly rejected. I'd just been ditched by Paul. I stalked over to the bar again in a huff. Who did that girl think she was? Why did Paul just take off with her? Was she more important than... me? I decided to drown my thoughts in another drink.
George pulled up a stool next to me. "Having fun?"
I sighed. "Not really. You?"
"Yeah, same 'ere." We laughed.
"What, no girls for you?" I teased.

He shook his head seriously. "Nope. They know it too. They keep their distance most of the time."

I glanced over at him, taking in his expression properly for the first time. George was different to the others, in a multitude of ways. Not only did he not lap up the fame that was lapping at his feet, but he sometimes even seemed to resent it.

"Maybe it would be better if you went in disguise and tried to meet someone who wasn't some crazed fan." I told him, wanting to put his smile back on his boyish face.

"Wearin' a wig, sunglasses and what else?" He wriggled his eyebrows at me.

"Who knows, there might be someone out there looking for just that." I grinned.

"If there is, I haven't met her yet. But how about you? Anyone special in your life?"

I gave him a look that sent him laughing. "What?"

"Yur face..." he grinned.

"Well, if my expressions didn't answer you, then no, I do not have a boyfriend." I took another big sip of my drink.

"That's good, cos there's a lad out there who's waitin' for ya." He winked, and a shiver went up my spine. Something told me that there was a huge amount of wisdom in those words.

I shook it off. "How would you know, Georgie?"

"I happen to be a very gifted reader of feelings," he answered.

That sent me into a fit of giggles. "Yeah right. You're funny, George."

He gave me an uncomfortable look. "Um, Abby?"

"What?" I questioned, polishing off my drink. My head was reeling, but my common sense was fuzzy.

"I'll call Mal," he responded, getting up.

"No, don't leave me too..." but he was gone. I stood up clumsily (the heels weren't helping), and made my way to the door. I pushed it over and breathed in the cool air. Suddenly I slumped over onto one of the brick walls, and before I knew it, I was asleep.